


February 15th, Valentine's Day

by GanseysBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, Wincest Love Week, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GanseysBlue/pseuds/GanseysBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was terribly hungover on the 15th of February, and Sam tried to make it a bit better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	February 15th, Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Wincest Love Week II, Day 7 for [deanfinite](deanfinite.tumblr.com) and was orignially posted [here](http://deanfinite.tumblr.com/post/139310724523/wincest-love-week-day-7)

Dean woke up with the worst hangover he had had in a long time. His stomach felt like someone had reached into his body and twisted it around and around, leaving it heavy and twisted and contracting in on itself with nothing to give it any resistance but itself. His head felt like needles had been planted inside his skull and were now trying to pierce through to the outside, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. The noises he was hearing were making it bad enough and he groaned as he tried to turn his head away from the light that was shining through the curtains. He regretted the move. The pain in his head had doubled, his stomach felt like it was working hard to heave something up – something that didn’t exist and so it felt like he would throw up his intestines if he moved any further. But worst of all, the movement made his bladder wake up, and he could feel the urgent pressure telling him to get up or else he’d wet the bed. He felt like his muscles had also been woken by the subtle move of his head and suddenly his entire body felt as though he had taken part in a marathon around the globe the day before. Every inch of his body hurt, ached, protested against all and every movement, even breathing was hard and the sigh that wanted to escape his lips never made it past the row of teeth. With his thoughts having arrived there, he noticed the strange taste and feeling in his mouth, dry and sticky, and foul. He could barely move his tongue which sat heavily behind the row of teeth that felt like they had grown a pelt overnight.

Dean Winchester regretted ever having taken that first drink last night at the bar where he had hoped to pick up some pretty girl to bring her back to the motel room for a lovely night on Valentine’s Day. Unfortunately for him, after five beers no girl had taken enough interest to join him that night, and he started to drink some heavier stuff, repelling all other women that could have possibly said yes, and causing him to feel as he was now. The thought of what he had to drink last night made his stomach heave and he had no choice but to open his eyes to estimate the distance to the bathroom. On a normal morning, the distance would have been six or seven average steps, but this morning it seemed as far away as the moon, and the brightness of the room burned his eyes and brain. He so much as lifted his head and his neck started to protest. He gave up. There was nothing he could do. He was just going to have to stay in bed, pee and throw up if he had to. He felt like he would die anyway. He tried to stop his brain from feeling the pain that was present on every inch of his body, but it was impossible.

He stayed there for what felt like eternity, until he heard the door open quietly; he heard the footsteps on the creaking floor and the closing of the door. He registered the increased brightness in the room when the door had been opened through his closed eyelids, he frowned against the pain that wouldn’t stop and let out another low groan that could have been interpreted as a “Sammy”.

“How you feeling?” Dean could hear the content smile on Sam’s face and assumed his agony was visible on his face. He just stayed still, speaking was impossible anyway, and any kind of sound would hurt his throat.

“Well, I guess you didn’t get lucky last night then? And if you did you probable can’t remember.” Sam was still enjoying this too much, and Dean managed to lift his hand and show him a particular finger to show his feelings about Sam’s amusement.

“Want to have a shower? Brush your teeth? Get back to normal?” Sam may have been enjoying the agony on his brother’s face – visible in his entire body posture really – but he did feel for him. And so after long arguments (him arguing and Dean making sounds of protest and pain) he got his brother into the bathroom where Dean pointed miserable at the toilet. Sam stood behind his brother, struggling to keep him upright whilst unbuttoning and pulling down his jeans, because Dean seemed incapable of helping in any way. He did fortunately for both seem to regain some arm function when he realzed he needed to hold his dick, though aiming wasn’t possible just yet. The sound of relief from Dean was pure instinct. Sam silently thanked the universe for sparing him from having to hold it for him.

When Dean was done, Sam helped him discard his jeans and boxers and manoeuvred him into the shower with the shirt he wore last night still on his body and switched the water on. Dean instantly made a sound that was both pleasure and hurt, and Sam figured the water felt nice but the sound was too much. He helped him sit down with his entire body right under the stream of water, and started taking off his brother’s shirt, then washed his hair and tried to massage his head lightly when Dean made assuring noises in the back of his throat. He even managed to get a little smile on his brother’s face and was fairly pleased with himself. He got Dean’s toothbrush from the sink, put toothpaste on it and handed it to his brother who accepted it gratefully. Whilst Dean brushed his teeth, Sam started rinsing his brother’s chest, but when he stroke over the nipples, Dean’s eyes went wide and a moan escaped his lips. Sam pulled his hand away and looked at Dean, a confused frown on his face.

“What was that?” he asked and followed Dean’s free hand that hastily moved down to his crotch. Sam chuckled at Dean’s failed attempt to hide his half-hard dick but moved away from the shower. This wasn’t the first time they saw each other’s erection, it wasn’t the first time one of them rushed to the bathroom because they couldn’t hide it anymore. But this was the first time one of them had gotten turned on whilst the other had been touching them.

“’m sorry, Sammy.” Dean tried to get up, move away from Sam to express how he felt with his body, but Sam just stood there and stared.

“It’s fine. It happens. Let’s finish getting you clean and then put you back in bed.”

Dean was shivering from the cold air on his wet body and when Sam touched him again his entire body seemed to vibrate. “Just get me back to bed, ‘k?” The horror was clearly audible in his voice, and Sam grabbed one of the small motel towels and started drying his brother’s body, ignoring the fact that he himself was wet all over, and his clothes were clinging to his body. When he reached Dean’s thighs to dap them dry, Dean threw his head back and bit the back of his hand, trying to repress another moan.

“What’re you trying to do, Sam?” His voice sounded in no way as accusatory as he had meant it to.

“Just, making sure you’re dry, Dean”, he said innocently, but he could feel his own jeans get a little too tight at the look on Dean’s the sounds he was desperately trying to repress. He blamed it on the moment, on instinct, on the fact he was merely trying to make his brother feel better, but he put the towel aside and put his hand around his brother’s now fully-hard dick. Dean’s hips immediately thrust forward, fucking into his brother’s hand. He looked at Sam, and Sam looked back at him, and without words they realized that they were doing this, and that it was okay. Sam instantly picked up his brother and carried him back into the room, threw him – as softly as his mental state would allow – on the bed neither of them had not spent the night in (Dean had told Sam the night before to get himself another room because he would not want to be there to witness what Dean had planned for the night – and how right he had been).

Sam was still in his jeans, but he moved his brother’s legs apart and lay down between them, pushing his erection against his brother’s, causing as much friction as possible, driving himself and Dean mad by the lack of skin-on-skin contact. He kissed Dean’s neck, along his jawline, moved his fingers lightly over his nipples and watched every reaction on Dean’s face, revelled in the look of surprise and joy he found there. He was sure he could come just from looking at his brother and the sounds he was making in the back of his throat. Dean was desperately thrusting his hips up, trying to meet Sam in his movements. He had his eyes trained on Sam’s face as much as Sam as focused on his. Their eyes were trailing each other’s facial expressions, always looking at each other’s lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else, until they were kissing, passionately, deeply and eagerly. It was a wet, breathless mess that made their hips move faster and less controlled.

“Sammy, I can’t – “, Dean breathed at his brother, who immediately moved his hand down, clumsily unbuttoned his jeans, pushed them down along with his boxers as far as it went without having to break their kiss, and put his hand around both their cocks, jerking them off at the same time until Dean arched his back and made a high-pitched sound Sam had never thought he was capable of. Dean came so hard he passes out for a second, and when he came to he felt Sam’s hot white come being shot on his belly. Sam’s hand slowed, lazily working them through their aftershock, as did their kisses, but they never stopped. When they were both spent and content, Sam collapsed on his brother’s body, supporting himself as much as possible.

“So, do you think maybe we could move Valentine’s Day to the 15th in the future?” Dean’s voice was hoarse, and quiet, and Sam knew he was testing the waters, trying to figure out how Sam felt about the situation.

“I think we should.” He breathed his brother in, and realized with a bang how deeply in love he had always been with him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He lay there for a few minutes until his stomach growled. “I think I need some food, though.”

“Ah, see. I figured you weren’t the roses kinda guy, so I bought you some heart-shaped bagels and a strawberry milkshake.” Sam still had his head in the crook of his brother’s neck, but Dean could feel him smile and place shy kisses on his neck.

“Thanks, Sammy. I think I like this Valentine’s Day much better than yesterday’s.”


End file.
